The Creepshow
by ClassyClassic16
Summary: Rachel felt the blood drip down onto the crown of her head, feeling in her gut that she really shouldn't have come. Horror/Supernatural/Romance because I can't chose 3 themes.
1. Already Bought The Tickets

**This isn't a vampire fic, you will see why I say this after you read. There's also a ton of blood and overall gore in this, so you have been warned. It'll probably overall be a short story, and eventual Faberry. Enjoy!**

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"You really got front row tickets to this thing? What is it supposed to be, a grotesque Cirque de Soliel?" Rachel looked at the grimy plastic seat before rolling her eyes and sitting beside her boyfriend. His dark eyes shone with excitement as everyone filed into the small theatre. The dark curtains looked like they wouldn't open anytime soon, and Rachel looked at the cracked wood underneath her feet. This was his idea of a great date? Yes, New York had some great underground entertainments, but this couldn't be one of them.

"Well, I've seen a show of theirs when I came here, and I thought you'd like it too. It's so cool Rachel, acrobats, and fire breathers. It's like in its own genre." Finn smiled, and Rachel offered a weak one back. He looked too happy, she couldn't disappoint him. Although she was truly having her doubts…

"It sounds interesting…" Rachel stood to take off her sweater, noticing how the small theatre was packed with people. They looked like the underside of New York had arrived.

"Rach, sit down, it's starting." Finn grabbed her wrist, pulling her down as the lights lining the walkways dimmed. The seats tilted back, and everyone cheered as the theatre became pitch black. Rachel couldn't see the barred railing in front of her.

She heard scrapings coming from the ceiling, but refused to grab Finn's hand. He shouldn't have taken her here, and he wouldn't hear the end of it. The sound of tap shoes on metal echoed through the theatre, and a green light illuminated the ceiling, revealing a dozen performers balancing on the pipes, the acrobats. Rachel could see their chests vibrating as they breathed, before the lights cut again and she didn't know which way was up.

A sharp evil laughter came from all sides of the theatre, and more clanging on the pipes. Another green light lit up the performers, now on the other side of the ceiling, hanging from the pipes by nooses. Rachel screamed as the rest of the theatre whooped and cheered. This must be part of the act.

The lights cut again, and black light lit up, revealing the skeletons painted on performers, and another one flying across the ceiling to rescue their comrades. Brandishing what was supposedly a knife, Rachel watched as the black-lit skeletons fell, disappearing behind the thick curtain. The lone skeleton looked down, smiling.

"Welcome to the Creepshow!" A light airy voice screamed before the lights cut again, and all Rachel heard was her laugh as she fell as well, green lights coming up from the floor to give everyone a hazy look. She gripped the armrest, looking at the curtain now smoking before it was pulled aside and standing in the centre of the stage was a blonde girl, smiling with a painted skull on her face.

The girl rolled her neck before reaching behind her neck and pulling off a large piece of skin, blood running down the ripped up ringleader costume. She snickered, throwing the piece into the audience, who was screaming with delight as she laughed.

More performers showed up behind her, standing on boxes and large gears that took up the stage. Some acrobats arched their backs and contorted their bodies so much Rachel would've sworn they were possessed. She ignored as Finn poked her, turning once to see his smiling idiot face. This preview was the most grotesque thing she had ever seen, but she couldn't look away.

The performers froze as the ringleader took out a flask, and drank from it, red liquid running down her chin and outfit. The rest rose into the air, flying around the stage with devilish grins. She could feel a bass beat thumping so hard she could feel it in her chest.

"Good night, sleep tight, don't let the dead bite," screamed out in a demonic voice before she felt a strap tighten around her waist. As the rest cheered, Rachel screamed, now locked here. Harder, faster bass thumps rang through her chest as the lights cut again, and she felt the rush of someone running in front of her blow her hair around. The crowd cheered, and above it, she could hear Finn's voice.

"Rach, isn't this awesome!" She wanted to rip out his tongue as he spoke. She was already scared out of her mind watching the blonde drink blood and rip off her own skin. His stupid speaking didn't help.

Cackling rose again, and the same blonde appeared on stage, wielding a thin sword. A male performer, shirtless with more tattoos than she could count ran at the blonde from behind, and without a word, the Ringleader twirled the sword and shoved it into his stomach. The green light lit up her smiling face as she titled her head back and swallowed the sword effortlessly, stepping over the bleeding performer before pulling it out again, flicking her piercing tongue at the audience.

She disappeared behind a curtain of black as a troupe of acrobats came on the stage. The costume effects were grand. The troupe was chained together, with wings in the skin of their backs, which Rachel could see. They struggled against each other, wings flapped as they shrieked, trying to pull away. She cried out as she saw the stabbed one, now wearing an executioners hood come on, holding a pair of red hot knives with his bare hands.

The metal pierced through the shackles of the acrobats, and they immediately rose, flying around the stage air as the gothic music began to play.

"Ladies and gentlemen," A deep, gravelly voice spoke as the Executioner stood solemnly on stage. "You are now in the presence of the most spectacular human beings on earth. Kindly keep your hearts in your chest as you proceed to view the show." A scream cried from the audience, and Rachel turned her head with the others as one of the winged acrobats held a beating heart in his hand, a man slumped over in the chair in front of the creature.

"This is going to be great," Finn cheered with the rest as the Ringleader came back again, holding an arsenal of knives. The woman on stage smiled, digging her nail into the skin on her cheek and ripping off another piece, the blood pouring down her face. Rachel wanted to punch him more now than ever before.

"This is going to be great…" Rachel said, stunned as she felt drops of blood run down her cheek, looking up, she saw the winged creatures, holding hearts in their hands, blood spattering down on almost all members of the audience. The belt around her waist only seemed to get tighter as she inhaled.

The bass stopped suddenly, the Executioner moving aside as the Ringleader juggled the knives, adding more into the air and going faster and faster until she took aim and fired. Rachel inhaled sharply as the metal blade appeared inches from her head, noticing they were only shot into the front row. She heart nearly leapt out of her chest as she willed herself not to scream. The acrobats came back, flying around with their gossamer wings as they collected The Ringleaders knives.

A small boy appeared onstage, his hair wild, his costume torn like the rest. He wasn't a boy, per say, but much smaller in comparison to the other performers. Rachel could see some hairs around his body, and once again, the light cut and the black light lit up the skeletons on their faces, and the strings weaving through the boy's skin, like a life-like puppet. Rachel gasped, watching the Ringleader take hold of the strings and tug his arms so that the winged ones could carry him up.

"Please, sit back and enjoy the show." The Ringleader snickered, holding up a bow and arrow to the boy's fluttering chest, hitting her target.


	2. Saw You In The Front Row

**I'm have an idea of where I want to take this, but I don't know how well it'll play out. Here's the second chapter anyways. **

**And a thanks to anyawest26 for reviewing. **

**Enjoy!**

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Rachel bit the inside of her lip, her clothing bloody and torn, Finn clinging on her arm like a child. She was freezing, her heart was pounding loudly in her ears and that Ringleader was all she could think about. The way the woman commanded the stage, ripping off her own skin and reappearing in the finale without so much as a scar.

"Wasn't that amazing?" Finn was really pissing her off. Really? Clumsy oaf couldn't keep his hands off her and now she had to hear about this. "The way that guy was getting shot and everything and he was alive! The special effects in this show are amazing."

"Yes Finn." Rachel said through gritted teeth. "It was amazing, I was there, I saw it." Rachel tugged her jacket around her tighter, walking beside Finn as the theater began to pile out. Everyone, dressed in black, now torn clothing was dripping in the blood from the rafters, on a high, discussing the show.

"Well, I have to go back to my hotel if I want to keep the discount. I'll see you later Rach, right?" Rachel froze as Finn kissed her outside the theatre, the crowd wandering down the street to the local bars. She gritted her teeth and nodded, smiling tightly at him as he walked away, waving. The mad horde of people had run down the city streets, running into the bars just in time for Last Call. She shivered, looking for any taxis running in this area at night.

Exhaling, she rolled her eyes, leaning against a bus stop pole, hoping that transit ran this late. She had gotten all dolled up for nothing, for a gory, bloody show that she didn't care too much about. Her breath froze in the air, and she realized how much she looked like a hooker waiting for someone at this time of night, dressed the way she was.

"Hey!" A voice called to her through the distance, and Rachel jumped, turning around to face who she recognized as the Ringleader from the show. The woman had no recollection of the show prior, a smile on her face in place of scar tissues and blood. She watched as the woman crossed the street to her bus stop, tugging on a black hat against the cold night air. She looked more human than she had all night. "You were at the show right? Front row as well?"

"Yes." Rachel noticed small studs around the blonde's eyebrows. She had a certain beauty about her; strong, confident demeanor, and energetic for this time of night. Her hazel eyes were vibrant, brilliant, green flecks standing out in the hazy lighting of the city, blonde hair sticking haphazardly out of the black knit toque. "That was me, and my soon to be ex-boyfriend."

"I saw him as well, from a previous show. He seemed thrilled to be here, but you looked less than pleased." The blonde laughed, tossing strands of the golden hair out of her face. Rachel softly smiled, enjoying the company of the pretty girl. "I assume that you aren't much of a horror fan? Be honest, my troupe can take criticism."

"Not really. I don't see the appeal of it all." Rachel blushed, the woman staring at her gently. She didn't seem like anyone she had really met before, and Rachel looked quickly up and down the street before turning her sights back to the blonde. "I guess public transit stops sometime."

"Well, you could always come back to my apartment for a little, if you want?" She blushed, sticking out a gloved hand, which Rachel shook. The blonde's grip was tender, but strong, protective if she could use that word. A part of her was still in awe on how there were absolutely no scars. "I'm Quinn by the way. If you're going to spend the night, you should know my name."

"Why are you so sure that I'm going to stay the night?" Rachel smiled, hoping it didn't come off as condescending. She wouldn't mind spending the night with the sweet blonde. Quinn… what a beautiful name. "I'm Rachel, thought I should make that known. If it isn't too much trouble, I'd love to stay over."

"Wonderful." Quinn grinned, revealing a black ring around her lower lip that she didn't see from this angle, the lamplight catching the glints in the jewel. "I'm just waiting for my roommate. He's just helping his son with something. Would you like to go back in the auditorium?"

"Whatever you want to do." Rachel blushed, her nose turning a bright red in the cold air. Quinn took her hand, pulling her across the street, the ends of her long colorful scarf brushing on Rachel's jacket. She looked at the silky material that seemed to shine in the night, and quickly ran her free fingertips over the fabric before Quinn noticed and smiled.

"Do you like it? I made it myself." She said proudly, fingers twisting around the fringe on the material. "Puck are you ready!" Quinn called into the empty theatre, Rachel clinging to her arm. The place looked like a haunted house, one light dimly above the ticket booth and the doors to the actual theatre looked they led into an abandoned house. The yellow light brought to life the gold in the wood, warming the red velvet on the door, and Rachel noticed the smell of dust that was lingering around.

"Coming!" Rachel hid behind Quinn as the Executioner came into view, the same scrawny boy from before over his back. His pale sandy hair glistened with red, and he looked smaller, weaker on the shoulders of the Executioner. The mohawked man looked at her behind the blonde and smiled warmly, trying to coax Rachel from her hiding place. "Who are you?"

"Relax Rach, he's an old friend." Quinn's arm came around her waist and pushed her in front of the man, who extended his hand and shook hers. She tightened at the muscled exterior, but felt her shoulders sag as his grip wasn't as crushing as expected.

"Noah Puckerman, call me Puck." He said, looking at the kid on his shoulders who was half asleep, his wild hair tied back in a ponytail. "And this runt is Carter, the boy." Rachel looked at the boy who stirred, but didn't say anything, shaking around on Puck's back a bit before calming down.

"Ready to go? It's been a long night." Quinn yawned, her arm around Rachel's shoulder so nonchalantly that Rachel noticed only when she moved to lock up the theatre doors, looking at the bloody footprints on the sidewalk leading away from the theatre. She grabbed to Quinn as they stepped back into the cold night air, the long scarf brushing against her face as she clung to the black jacket. "Are you a bit cold Rach?"

"Just a bit…" Rachel smiled, looking up at the blonde through the scarf, now wrapped further around her face. She couldn't remember a time when Finn had done anything like this. If he was cold, he would huddle inside his own jacket, ignoring her until he heated up again. She shivered closer to the blonde, crossing the street in the nearly empty road, hearing a few police sirens in the distance. She curled into the blonde's body, feeling the heat come from Quinn.

"Don't worry about that too much. We hear them all the time around here." Quinn smiled; Rachel could hint the tones of laughter in her voice. They walked quietly for a few blocks, Quinn occasionally talking to Puck about another show, and Carter occasionally stirring underneath Puck's jacket. The tiny brunette looked at the boy with worry, watching as he moaned every so often when Puck walked.

Her heels clicked on the pavement, watching into the dark alleys as the wild blew louder. This part of the city, save for the roar of sirens and shouts from bars, seemed nice at night, a small pocket in the City That Never Sleeps that seemed to be resting. A drug induced rest, but a rest nonetheless.

Finally seeing signs of life around the neighborhood, Rachel kept her head down as Quinn greeted a few druggies surrounding the steps of a building. The grinned at her with stoned expressions, the smiles lasting on their faces while their eyes were dull. Two waved hello to Puck, and he nodded, his expression set in stone. The fact that it was almost 3 am seemed irrelevant to everyone around here.

"Well, we're home." Quinn fished the keys out of her pocket, unlocking a door on the third floor of the older building. "Santana's probably asleep though, try and be a bit quiet.

"Who?" Rachel whispered softly before another dim light gleamed down on the four bloody night travellers, and a disgruntled looking Latina woman in a white tank top and boxers was leaning against the wall.

"An ex-girlfriend." Quinn smiled, "Good morning San, did we wake you?"

"No, I normally wake up looking this beautiful. Just shut up and get in bed." Santana grumbled, looking at Rachel for the first time, squinting in the dim light. "Who are you?"

"She's my number one fan," Quinn smiled, tugging off her jacket and tossing it on a pile of coats near the door, Rachel and Puck following suit. "We'll just go to my room and not make any noise." Quinn rolled her eyes as Santana laughed.

"Yes, you keep quiet, I'll hold to you it." Santana took the quiet boy from Puck, carrying him into the smallest room in the apartment. "Just keep quiet, this kid needs his rest after two shoes in a row."

The other two nodded as Santana dropped the kid off, and went back into what Rachel assumed was her room in this dingy apartment. Puck bid the two goodnight and went into another door, shutting it tightly behind him. Rachel leaned against the wall in the small hallway, waiting as Quinn untied her boots and kicked they away, looking at Rachel with a tired smile. She could see a small stove and presumably kitchen at the end of the hall, determining the bedrooms to be the various doors leading up to it.

"You don't mind having to share a bed right? That couch is really crappy to sleep on." Rachel noticed fingerless leather gloves underneath the black knit ones Quinn had on before, and nodded in response.

"That's fine, I'm just really tired right now." She yawned, feeling Quinn tug her down the hall toward another unopened door. She felt herself lean onto the taller woman as she opened the door, hugging Quinn tightly, unwilling to let go.


	3. What Are We Supposed To Do Now?

**Ok, it's not as bloody as I thought it would be by now, but build-up. Spoiler alert? probably not, just because I don't know where this is going.**

**Thanks to Ruaitae, RainBlueWater, and GraceButYouCanCallMeGracie for the reviews. **

**Third installment**

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Rachel rolled over in the dirty bed, moaning at the lumpy mattress. She felt her clothes hard because of the dried blood, sticky on her skin still. Yawning, she sat up, watching Quinn on the other side of the room moving around softly. She didn't say anything as the blonde pulled apart a set of stitches on the back of her neck, no blood, no scar tissue, nothing remaining of the threading that had been through her skin.

"Good morning," Quinn said softly, and Rachel nodded, shielding her eyes from the harsh sunlight going in through the small window. "Did you sleep well?"

"The mattress was a bit uncomfortable, but overall very nice." She grinned, looking around the lightened room. The black paint on the walls was peeling, posters of various artists and advertisements for the troupe taped up. She watched as Quinn slid on a few rings abandoning the fingerless gloves on the dresser. Quinn fingered the small black rock around her neck, smiling softly at Rachel.

"Sorry, the mattress is a bit old." Rachel saw she had changed. The remnants of the woman onstage last night were long gone, and in place was a simple black t-shirt and black sweats. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail, and she didn't move as Quinn sat beside her on the mattress. "Any preference for breakfast foods?"

"Vegan, if possible." Rachel got out weakly before Quinn chuckled.

"You can have toast, and I think there might be an apple in the back of the fridge. Really, there's not much here but leftover takeout and a few energy drinks for Carter." Quinn scuffed her sock on the dirty wooden boards. Rachel looked at the deep red stains on the wood, coupled with some burn marks near the window.

"Whatever you can do, I'm not really that hungry now," Rachel coughed, looking down at her sorry appearance. She began scratching off the dried blood under her nails, feeling Quinn lean in closer to her. This was so weird, especially for her. No one had managed to get her in their bed so easily, granted they hadn't slept together. Quinn seemed like an entirely different species, one who could calm her, one she could trust. She felt a strange sense of security in this dirty building.

"Would you like to go into the other room; we have a phone in the kitchen. Do you need to call someone? Let them know where you are?" Quinn's soothing voice broke her from the trance, and she jumped off the mattress, her thin socks sliding on the wood.

"I need to call my roommate, he must be worried sick." She caught herself before the fall, Quinn putting a reassuring hand on her arm. She saw burn marks on the blonde's hand, sporadic, like cigarette burns.

"Calm down Speedy," The blonde's fingers drew her face up to look at her. She nodded, watching Quinn's face mould into a smile, watching every inch of the beautiful face. No scars, no lines, nothing at all. "Let's go into the kitchen, and you can reassure him you haven't been kidnapped."

Rachel nodded, following Quinn as they left the room, slipping into the warm, now sunny hallway, illuminating the bloody footprints from nights prior. "Sorry about the mess in the hall." Quinn ran her fingers on the wallpaper. "Santana tried cleaning up after our shows, but we come in late every time we perform, and the blood lasts in this wood."

"It gives the apartment a different feel, personalized maybe." Rachel chuckled, drawing a laugh from Quinn. They entered the kitchen, as scuffed as the rest of the apartment, tiled floor instead of wood. Carter looked half asleep at the kitchen table, slowly eating a bowl of cheerios while Santana was sitting on the counter, watching the news. Puck was nowhere to be seen.

"Look who's finally awake." Santana was sitting in front of a window, curled up like a cat, wearing the same outfit from last night. "You're right Quinn; I didn't hear a peep from your bedroom all night. What did you do, gag her?"

"We didn't do anything San, calm down. She has to call her roommate." Quinn put an arm lazily around Rachel's shoulder, pointing to the phone beside the fridge. "They live in the city, right?"

"Of course." Rachel whispered, looking at Santana, trying to find a crack in the woman's outer behavior. She could be this lewd and loud all the time. She picked up the corded phone, pushing the buttons for the apartment, listening to a dial tone. She slammed her forehead against her palm, realizing Finn had her cell phone. She had given him her things to hold at intermission.

"_Hello?"_ Kurt's worried tone came through the phone line, and Rachel breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hey Kurt." She chuckled as he began shrieking.

"_Where have you been all night? You said you'd call, or at least if you were with Finn, you would give me a text. He woke me up, the machine caught his voicemail saying he was home at the hotel. Where the hell are you Rachel?"_ She laughed, causing the other two women in the kitchen to look at her, Carter to finally glance up from his cheerios.

"I've been with Quinn." She said simply, pulling the away from her ear as he yelled at her.

"_Who the hell is Quinn!?" _ She laughed at his concerned tone. The three in the kitchen stared at her, Quinn looked more amused than startled, Santana the opposite.

"She's just a friend…. That I shared a bed with last night." She downright laughed at Kurt's screams on the phone. That boy needed his coffee in the morning; naturally hyper did not suit him.

"_It's a she? And you didn't think to tell me this? Rachel Barbra Berry, you are losing your mind. And you slept with her?" _

"Of course not Kurt, we barely know each other and we were tired last night. I said shared a bed, not fucked each other's brains out." Rachel felt an elbow in the back and turned to see a disgruntled Santana, Quinn's hands over Carter's ears, the boy apparently too tired to shake them off.

" _Fine, fine, don't tell me these things Rachel. What time will you be back by?" _ Kurt huffed, and Rachel rolled her eyes at his dramatics.

"I don't know, I'll call you before I leave Quinn's place." Rachel smiled into the phone.

"_Alright, enjoy your day." _Kurt said his goodbye's as Santana poured three cups of coffee. Rachel finally hung up the phone, turning back to face the people in the kitchen.

"Watch your language; we do have a minor in the house." Santana grumbled, thrusting a mug into her hands. She looked down into the black liquid, seeing her face star back at her. She hadn't noticed the blood coming down her cheeks from her crown, and she scratched at it, flecks falling onto the floor.

"I'm not that young." Carter mumbled. "I'm 11, seriously, and I can't hear swearing? That makes no sense." His sandy hair was pulled back into a ponytail; his tan skin looked like it belonged more on the California coast than the New York slums. "Can't I just go back to bed Aunt Quinn?"

"No, you have to stay awake. Your mother's coming by soon, and you don't want her to see the cut from last night. You'll heal faster if you stay awake." Quinn ran her fingers through Carter's hair, the boy nodding.

"But sleep is so nice…" He mumbled, yawning loudly.

"But bleeding onto your mattress, which I just got clean, isn't." Santana smacked him on the back of the head, and Rachel walked over to see bloodstains covering the back of his pajama shirt. The boy pounded the table, leaning on it.

"I'm human; you can't expect me to want to stay awake with a bleeding back!" He moaned, Rachel seeing faint tears brim. He looked to be in a lot of pain.

"You're just tired because of the blood loss. I told you that your father was bringing some blood for you tonight. The cuts have to close Carter, and I know you aren't in pain, so quit the waterworks." Santana shut off the TV, checking her watch. She looked like she could go for hours on the apparent energy.

"You don't know that." Carter sat up, grumpily eating his breakfast.

"Oh but I do. You forget that I raised you from a baby, and you ran into the house before with a massive cut on your head, perfectly fine, asking for a drink." Santana stretched, leaving the mug on the counter before leaving the kitchen. Rachel noticed colored ink sprouting up onto her shoulders from the tank top, but from this angle she couldn't decipher what they were. "I have work in an hour, this argument is ended, I win."

A slam from her bedroom door made Carter roll his eyes, and Quinn smiled. "Why don't you go watch TV, little man?"

He nodded, heading down the well-lit hall into another door that Rachel had missed last night. She turned her attention to the blonde woman sitting on the table. Quinn looked unfocused, her eyes hazy, her fingers lingering lightly on her lip. She snapped her fingers in front of the blonde's face, Quinn shaking her head and looking right at her.

"You called him your ex-boyfriend last night, right?" Quinn blushed a bright red, the green flecks in her eyes standing out.

"Yes, why would you like to know?" Rachel smiled, her hand resting gently on top of Quinn's, playfully fingering a ring.

"Would you like to go out with me sometime? Dinner and a show? An actual Broadway show, not something like mine." Quinn smiled softly, and before she could comprehend it, Rachel leaned in, their lips brushing tenderly. She felt a soft hand come onto her cheek before pulling away.

"That sounds wonderful." She nodded, looking down into the still full coffee cup. "But before dinner, let's finish breakfast."


	4. You're Going To Need Protection

**I have a plot for this! Finally! This chapter is the beginning of the supernatural stuff. Just a heads up**

**Thanks to Phen Name and Ruaitae for reviewing. Much appreciated :)**

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Rachel slunk into the bedroom, Kurt asleep on the couch in the main section of the apartment. Carter was quickly at her heels, and she turned to the boy, watching as eyes almost glow in the darkness. He smiled, his teeth as bright as the rest of him, and followed her softly into the bedroom.

"So this is the apartment of an actress?" Carter sat on the floor, lying on the soft carpet and smiling at its softness. Rachel watched the screen of his mp3 glow as he switched songs. "It's so nice…. Why can't Dad get a place like this?"

"Ask him tomorrow." Rachel looked down at herself, now wet from the day's activities as well. Shutting the door and switching on a light, her bed looked so inviting. It had been such a long two days, and tiring. She tossed her wet jacket onto Carter, who accepted it without complaint. She changed from the wet clothes into her soft pajamas, wondering what was taking Quinn and Santana so long to come up. "What's taking your aunts so long?"

"No idea." Carter whispered underneath the jacket, and Rachel pulled it off his head, gasping at what she saw. The gleaming Swiss army knife in his hand was dragging across his palms, the blood oozing out of the fresh cuts and pouring onto her carpet. Carter licked his wounds, smearing blood on his face and smiled at her, eyes glowing. "Can't you be part of our troupe too?"

"No Carter, I'm going on Broadway!" Rachel jumped away from the boy as he reached for her with a bloodied palm. She noticed the same burn marks on the top of his palm as on Quinn, and pressed against the wall as he slowly stood up, coming towards her.

"Please Rachel, I like you around." Carter pressed his hands on the wall beside her as she jumped out from under him, afraid to slap the child. In essence, this pre-teen was a child; she didn't want to hurt him. His eyes glowed brighter, watching as the blood fizzled on the wall, sending smoke into the air. The door finally slammed open, Quinn looking around for Rachel, and grabbing Carter by the wrists, slapping the child across the face.

Santana surprisingly came to her, examining her hands before nodding. "Sorry about his behaviour." The Latina murmured, backing away from Rachel as Quinn shook Carter by the wrists, lifting the scrawny child into the air.

"Snap out of it!" Quinn screamed at him, her voice piercing, Rachel noticing the stitching on the back of her neck. Santana rushed to the boy, pulling back his hair to check for something on his neck as well before shaking her head. "How many times do we tell you to keep that bloody thing in!?" Quinn was an inch away from his face before she pulled a crucifix out of her pocket, getting the necklace around the boy's head as he howled, Santana grabbing his legs as he writhed.

He fell onto the floor, curling into a ball on the bloody carpet, and Santana noticed the bloody, still smouldering handprints on the wall. "You might want to put some crosses or something over that, otherwise they'll keep burning."

Quinn knelt down, watching as the blood in Carter's hands stopped flowing, and the cuts began to seal before Rachel's eyes. "Carter, who am I?"

"A-aunt Quinn," He whispered, sounding petrified.

"Yes, and who's room are you in?" Quinn's voice was soothing as she tried to calm the boy down. His skinny physique in the baggy clothing made him look smaller.

"I-I don't know. W-where are we?" Carter cried, Rachel still pressed against the wall opposite the burning handprints, which Santana was beginning to take care of.

"We're in Rachel's room, and you need to always have your thread in." Quinn picked up the boy, Carter clutching to her torso as they shakily stood. "You have to remember these things Carter, always have a back-up on you."

"Can someone please tell me what's going on?" Rachel squeaked, everyone turning to the small brunette looking pale against the wall. Quinn set Carter down, looking at the blood on her hands.

"Do you have water for this?" She looked over at Santana, pocketing crosses again, the bloody handprints nowhere to be found.

"Here," Santana held the crucifix over Quinn's hands, and the blonde gritted her teeth as the red liquid fizzled on her skin, evaporating from her hands. She rubbed then, before opening them again, palms up to display no visible signs of scarring. "Better?"

"Much, thanks." Quinn nodded, turning towards Rachel as the diva pressed herself further against the wall.

"What the hell are you doing?! Am I supposed to be this freaked out right now because this is just…. This is insane, what the hell did you do to your hands?!" Rachel jumped onto her bed as Quinn inched closer to her.

"Rach, it's not going to hurt you, we have protection and I don't think any of us know the proper rituals. We got rid of all the possibly scarring stuff." Quinn pulled back her hair, turning around to reveal the fine black thread running into the back of her neck, the stitching shining under the light. "San, show her."

Santana rolled her eyes, doing as she was told. Against the tan skin was another set of black stitching, golden thread weaved with the black strands. "Rachel, you have nothing to worry about now."

"But I did! What the hell is wrong with you? All of you?! What the hell happened to Carter?! His eyes glowed! They glowed!" Rachel pressed herself against the bed, feeling around for the Star of David under her pajama, the silver pendant being thrust into her hand as it caught light, being shown off to the other three.

"You have protection if you have that on you. Relax." Santana brushed her off, taking Carter into her arms.

"Look, Rach, it's just… it's a long story and it's complicated and I really can't tell you here." Quinn looked desperate, and Rachel was tempted to believe her… but this was crazy. Chills ran down her spine as she scanned the room, the three of them looking at her with pleading eyes.

"Where can you tell me then? Perhaps a sewer where you can do this ritual to me uninterrupted." Rachel shook, wringing her damp palms together as she stared at Quinn, the blonde looking remorseful.

"I was thinking more for after we've known each other a bit more." Quinn ran her fingers through the shaggy blonde hair, afraid to get closer to Rachel.

"I… I just need you to go now. I need to get some sleep, and time to settle my thoughts." Rachel shook as she pointed to the door, watching Quinn nod. The blonde tried to get closer, and Rachel stood like a statue, unmoving. She didn't know what possessed her to stay still, but she let Quinn kiss her on the cheek before moving back to the door.

"I understand, you have my number, just call when you're ready." Quinn lowered her eyes to the floor, noticing the bloodstains on the carpet. She knelt down against the floor, holding the crucifix over the spotty patches and the four watched as the blood fizzled into the air, disappearing from the white fabric.

"Yeah," Rachel stood on the pillows, watching as the three left the room, Quinn shyly waving to her as the door closed. She looked at the crosses littering her room; it was as though an exorcism had just gone through it. She shakily walked around the crosses, moving through the room as she exited it. She couldn't sleep there tonight, not after everything that had just gone through it.

Grabbing a pillow from the couch, she kicked Kurt further into the cushions, making the boy moan, but move as she climbed on the opposite end, pulling the blanket up to her chin and falling into an uneasy sleep.


	5. Intermission 1

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**Hope you all have a great week.**

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_Quinn looked at the burns on her hands, holding the cleaver in her clammy palm. She heard her girlfriend stir in the other room, moaning loudly. Quinn reached behind her neck, feeling the fine black stitching that she had put in after Lennox had beaten her. Charles had put them one night, telling her it was the only way to keep her sanity with the burns. _

_She opened her palm, dragging the metal across her hand and watching as it bled momentarily before closing again. She inspected her arm, pushing the metal into her skin up from her wrist to her elbow, bleeding for less than 3 seconds before closing up again. Looking at her arm, she ran fingers over the smooth skin, the beginnings of a tattoo sleeve on her wrist and elbow. _

_Lennox didn't have control over her now, not when she was this strong with the protection. She went into the bedroom, looking at her girlfriend asleep on the bed, pushing the knife into her throat. The redhead between the sheets awoke with a start, looking up at Quinn as the blonde pressed the metal against the skin._

"_Quinn… what the hell…?" Lennox glared at her, looking scared for the first time in their relationship. _

"_I'm sick of living under you." Quinn pulled the blade out of the girl's neck, Lennox still breathing harshly. The redhead grasped her throat, coughing and sputtering harshly. Quinn grabbed her by the neck, pressing her up against the bedframe, their faces inches apart. "I am done with your bullshit. I'm leaving you; I don't care how you feel anymore."_

_Lifting Lennox off the bed, she threw the thin girl across the room, the body colliding with the closet door. "You made me this. You turned me into a monster!" Quinn threw the cleaver across the room, the blade landing in Lennox's shin. The woman on the floor gritted her teeth before pulling it out, the cut sealing almost instantaneously. "I'm stronger than you. You idiot, you made me stronger than you." _

"_Quinn, you really shouldn't do this." Lennox struggled to get on her feet, only to have Quinn shove her down again. The adrenaline rush was working its way through Quinn's body; the woman could only see a blinding rage towards her now ex-lover. _

"_Shut up! I'm done with your bullshit! I should kill you now!" Quinn punched her, square in the nose. She panted, looking at her shaking ex. She waited for the blood to stop coming down Lennox's face, and the redhead lunged at her, an unnatural glow in her eyes. Quinn dodged the full scale attack, and threw out her fists, hearing a solid crack as they made contact with her ribcage. _

_Successfully knocking down the devilish woman, Quinn looked at the blood burning through the wood. No amount of Holy Water would save it. With a blank stare, she studied hands covered in Lennox's blood, the warm wet liquid causing her no physical harm even though she could see her skin burning underneath it. She was one of them now, no matter how hard she fought it; evil could never hurt her again._

_Standing fully, Quinn shook the blood from her hands, trembling as she paced around Lennox's own shaking body. Kneeling down and staring the devil right in the face, she narrowed her eyes. "We're done. I am through with your bullshit. We. Are. Finished. I'm leaving. _Fuck you."

_Quinn turned on her heel, exiting the dark bedroom, grabbing the keys to her car and fingering the thin black stitching on the back of her neck. She felt around her thin shirt for the golden cross, clutching it in her bloody fingers. She bit her tongue at the prickling pain of the cross as the dried red crust began to dissolve. She looked at the suburban lawn, the silent street, and got into the car, revving the engine before driving away._

_Glancing in her rear-view mirror, she saw Lennox run out to the driveway, shaking her fists at the car before she turned the corner. She had gone; she was safe. She wasn't worth the effort; for Lennox to actually come and find her would be too much work. _

_Quinn looked at the night road, and laughed. She opened the windows, and blasting the radio, the sound of her piercing laughter echoing down the street. _


End file.
